


Her Majesty's Burden

by MachinationOfClay



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-08-16 10:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8099473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MachinationOfClay/pseuds/MachinationOfClay
Summary: The world has moved on since the Battle of Sozin's Comet. Azula and Aang settled down to rule the Fire Kingdom and helped usher in a new age of peace and prosperity. After Aang dies, Azula is given the opportunity to find answers to some very old questions. Questions that have haunted her since she first met Aang in Omashu.





	1. The Fire Lady Regent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this series as much I've enjoyed writing it.

Azula, Fire Lady regent of the Fire Nation, regarded the disused dirt road in the pre-dawn light with a dubious eye. Cut through some of the most densely forested and mountainous regions in her homeland, the road seemed to struggle against the encroaching wilderness; a wounded animal cornered by a pack of ravenous wolves. Azula fancied she could hear the existential howls of weeds, vines, and saplings as the road's demise grew nigh. Once, she would have relished such thoughts, but time heals all.

Time. Love and care. Sweat and tears. These gifts, shared freely, brought her more joy than she ever thought possible. And now, with Aang's passing only a few short days ago, Azula had lost her soul. She felt emptier than she'd ever felt in those early years. To never see that smile, hear that hearty laugh, rub that bald head of his. Memories flood, unbidden and overwhelming: Aang tossing the children high and catching them with his bending. Their delighted screams as he chased them around the palace. So many appearances to their adoring countrymen and woman. Kyala's, their daughter, mastery of air bending. Bumi melting a bronze statue to impress daughters of some visiting dignitaries. A few assassination attempts here and there, but that was to be expected in good reign.

The royal carriage's sudden jolt brought her back to the this moment. Her face wet with tears and her body shook.

"You're ok," she murmured to herself. In this moment, right now, she needed to be in control.

Azula unclenched her hands from her silken robes. Deep crimson lined with golden threads with hints of blue and green. It's Aang's favorite. She would wear it for him. He always wanted it when they went dancing in the palace gardens underneath the stars. He said she shone more brilliantly than any star in the sky. The wind blowing through her hair. His smell as she laid her head against his chest. She'd look up and let herself get lost in his eyes.

A quiet gasp and a knock at the back of the carriage brought Azula back to the present, again. Azula glanced back and Aang's steel grey eyes peered at her through the carriage's back window. "Aang?" her voice cracked.

"Mother?" Kyala asked, her face conveyed intense anxiety and sadness. Aang's grey eyes and Azula's dark hair. A delightful mix of their personalities. "Mother, what are you doing away from the palace? You should be resting. You should be grieving. This isn't right!" Kyala glanced over the carriage's roof and whistled to the driver. "Halt, by order of Fire Lord Bumi."

Damn. The driver halted the carriage. Azula could see the man, her own personal valet, take a verbal lashing from her daughter. Her driver had a good foot on Kyala and more muscle than brains, but he cowered before Kyala. Her daughter stood firm, slight and powerful. A coiled serpent. Every muscle tensed. The gold Azula paid him for this unscheduled excursion would not be enough after this humiliation. She decided to double it. Trustworthy, no questions asked help was hard to find.

With the driver properly chastised, Kyala turned her attention to the carriage. Azula wiped her eyes and composed herself before her daughter could get a proper look. The carriage door opened and Kyala stepped up and inside. How confident she looked, even in her grief, worry, and barely contained rage.

"Explain yourself, mother. Why aren't you at the palace? Dignitaries arrive from every town, city, and kingdom by the hour. They expect to share their condolences with you," Kyala wiped a tear from her eye, in spite of herself, "Why aren't you with us while we grieve for father? The funeral is in two days and you're not at home with us. Why did you leave? Why did you leave in the dead of night?"

Before Azula could answer, Kyala's face crumpled and so did she, sobs wracked her body as exhaustion and sorrow overwhelmed her anger. Kyala collapsed into her mother's arms. Azula stroked her daughter's short, wild hair.

"Sssshhhhh," Azula cooed.

"Why did you leave us, mother?"

Azula gave a knowing, if tight, smile, "For someone who regularly sneaks into my secret meetings and reads every spy report I receive, you certainly like to play the fool. It doesn't suit you."

Kyala frowned and sat up, "But I haven't. Not since…" her voice trailed off.

"Of course you would. How else would you find me so quickly?"

"I asked the stable boy. The driver told him where your destination in case something happened."

Azula quirked an eyebrow. Perhaps a second bag of gold wasn't warranted after all.

"I am," Azula searched for the right words to convey the truth of the matter before her. The gravity of it all. None came. "One of your father's friend's, one we thought died the day of Sozin's comet, has suddenly turned up. If my sources are to be believed, the herbalist is but a few miles to the North."

A quizzical expression crept over Kyala's features. "The herbalist? Aang's herbalist? Miyuki?"

Azula laughed despite herself. "Miyuki was the cat. Just a regular cat. The herbalist is Piro. I spent decades of searching, employed spies the world over, and the old crone eluded me." Azula's features darkened, "And within hours after Aang's last breath, my spies find her in my own backyard, mere hours from the capital."

"A coincidence?" Kyala mused, she recalled spy reports filled with dead ends and apparitions in the night.

"Unlikely." Azula frowned. "In any case, I have questions that only she can answer."

"Which questions?"

Azula punched the ceiling of the carriage to signal to the driver to start again.

"Why things went so wrong."


	2. The Herbalist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next few I'll be working on descriptions during conversation and general imagery. If you are so inclined, I'd love some constructive feedback. General feedback is also welcome.

Thump.

The trowel bit into the dew kissed earth, guided by a strong, practiced hand.

Scrape.

Gently, layer by layer, the trowel lay bare germinating seeds: potential desperate to be realized. Each seed allotted precious resources down into roots that branch, twist and explore to find water and nutrients. In the other direction, the lion's share of a seed's resources drove a single thin, pathetic shoot. A shoot that struggled mightily through rain, soil, and around impassable rocks all to find the life giving rays of sun. The strength to live to the next day. The promise of growth and the chance to reach out high into the air.

Wrench.

One by one, the other hand reached into the uncovered pit and deftly removed the struggling potential. Their life lay hands of one whose motives they could not understand.

Toss.

One by one, they landed without ceremony on the ever growing pile of refuse. Condemned to die just as it was on the brink of living.

The herbalist, Piro, never gave the weeds a second thought as behind her their life withered.

Thump. Scrape. Wrench. Toss.

Thump. Scrape. Wrench. Toss.

Thump. Scrape. Wrench. Toss.

Piro's mind focused on her own intentions for this spot of earth. One can cultivate seeds with more useful potential than the wild, haphazard, short lived lives of weeds. Properly nurtured such seeds offer sweet aromas, shade, medicines, food, and more. A sacred contract exists between a farmer and her crop: provide for me and mine and I shall provide for you and yours.

Thump. Scrape. Wrench. Toss.

Thump. Scrape. Wrench. "Mreow". Plop. Roll. Purr.

The large cat rolled in the dirt in front of Piro, earth and weed seedlings clung to its long white fur. Playful green eyes glanced up at its owner as its paws stretched for the trowel. Miyuki batted the dark metal, then lunged and attacked it with both paws. A soft clang rang out as Miyuki's teeth met hard metal. Back feet kicked furiously at its handle. Satisfied, the cat looked up to Piro, triumph shining in her eyes as if to say "The mighty beast is dead for I have vanquished it!"

"Prrrrmreow?"

"As ever, I am inspired by your prowess. Miyuki: defender of the hidden grove, slayer of trowels. I dare say you deserve a treat for your selfless act," the herbalist indulged her companion: scritches under the chin for such a mighty hero. Joyous purring filled the air and Miyuki leaned in to Piro's hand and softly licked her wrist. This was no Taku, sure, and the loneliness wore on her, but Miyuki always managed to break the monotony.

Piro wiped her brow and surveyed her home. The sun barely kissed the top of the struggling forest and spilled light across abandoned fields and farmsteads. Previously a proud, if small, grove, the Fire Nation leaders scorched the land and used what remained to feed their mighty war machine. Only the truly desperate find "exhausted" locations such as this, teaming with few natural resources and extremely poor soil, palatable for farming. Or mad. In the years since Aang donned the Fire Lord mantle and granted Piro ownership of this land, Piro planted hundreds of trees, bushes, and wildflowers in this forgotten nook of the Fire Nation. Perhaps one day, if left alone, this grove would return to its former glory. Piro hoped she would live to see that day.

The unexpected squawk of a distant ostrich horse brought Piro back to the present. No one traveled these roads anymore since Fire Lord Aang ordered them closed and their locations removed from the official maps. Not soldiers, not commoners, not even vagrants. Who, then? Piro bowed her head, closed her eyes, and listened. Wooden wheels bounced against the unkept roads. Ostrich horses strained to keep pace. A driver's encouragement. A private carriage? "I'm about to have at least one guest," Piro surmised.

Piro sighed and considered what remained to do in her garden. So much to do and never enough time, but there was nothing to be done. Resigned, the herbalist took off her gloves and placed them in her apron. She walked slowly towards her stone cabin to wash up and put a kettle of tea on the fire. After all these years, there was but one person who might hunt for her still. Piro pondered what decorum looked like these days. It wasn't often that royalty came to visit.


	3. A Daughter's Duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next few I'll be working on descriptions during conversation and general imagery. If you are so inclined, I'd love some constructive feedback on those points. General feedback is also welcome.
> 
> If you are interested in becoming a beta reader, please drop me a line.
> 
> Finally, this is the last of the intro chapters.

_"Your mother is a monster..."_

Those words still echoed in Kyala's mind as she approached the simple, grey, single story stone house from the air. The outside walls looked to have been bent out of the ground with some skill. Several large windows faced the grove to the East while a wooden door and smaller windows faced what was left of the road to the West. While the road her and her mother traveled on seemed unkempt at best, vines, bramble, and other underbrush almost completely obscured the road as she neared the house. She saw no one near the house, the gardens on the Eastern side of the house, nor near the grove.

_"Your mother is a monster..."_

Kyala landed softly in front of the imposing door. Fashioned out of solid ironwood, the door would last eons. Stained a light color and sanded smooth. Through the windows, Kyala made out the smell of recently cooked food and heard some work song of times gone by. A song filled with sudden and powerful movements that mimicked the Earth Kingdom bending style. Kyala imagined such songs were used to build cities and move literal mountains.

Kyala looked back over her shoulder at where her mother's carriage should be - slowly trudging back towards the capital. She felt lost and adrift. The desire to open her airbending staff and flee as fast as the wind could carry her grew the as she replayed what happened in the carriage again. She wanted to be lost in that torrent of air. To have time to process the deluge her mother tried to pour into her, as if Father's death was the final drop of water that broke the dam. It started as a trickle. A story about how she and Aang met and her face soured. Bits and pieces of clues and half remembered theories streamed out of Azula and she couldn't stop herself. Tears streamed down her face, but she wouldn't stop talking. Couldn't. No time. Never enough time.

Azula's plan to confront Piro alone. Wanted to know. Needed to know. To know what? Kyala could not understand. Azula trailed off into incoherency and focused on deep breathing. No, Kyala suggested it. Had she? To go in her mother's stead. That her mother should go home and rest. That she would take care of everything. Kyala expected some kind of protest. As Fire Lady Azula demanded to see every interaction through to the end - to leave nothing to chance. To see the force of nature that was her mother reduced to this mewling infant tore at Kyala's heart.

_"Your mother is a monster..."_

Kyala turned back to see a kindly old woman in green robes met her gaze with an expectant smile. She held a potted plant in one hand and leaned on a shovel in the other. Before Kyala could utter a word, the old woman gingerly placed the potted plant in her hand. Kyala peered at what looked like a miniature tree with some wonder. A trunk the width of three fingers with full branches, a full crown, and even what appeared to be tiny, immature, indigo fruit. A bonsai tree. Knots dotted the trunk like scars of once deep wounds and the trunk blackened as if once grasped by wrath made manifest. She wondered at its age.

"Come along, dear," the old woman's voice came from around the side of the house.

Kyala looked up to find herself alone on the front steps. "What just happened?" she raged at herself. Evaded by an old woman like a rank amateur. Bumi would never let her live that down. Kyala marched after the old woman, her staff held firmly in her right hand and the bonsai in the left. "Good thing he's not going to find out," she whispered to herself.

The old woman was either faster than she looked or had a much longer head start than Kyala realized. They reached the center of the young grove by the time Kyala caught up. In a spot cleared of brush and leaves, several pails of water waited for them. The forest thrummed with life around them. Without saying a word to Kyala, the old woman hobbled to the spot and put her foot on the shovel. She leaned her weight on it, but the soil resisted her attempts. The old woman tried again with similar results.

"Is your name Piro?" Kyala asked, "I am..."

The look the old woman gave Kyala would've given a platypus bear pause and hissed, "This grove is sacred. Within these woods," the old woman gestured around her, "the living and the spirits, alike, may come to find peace." With a finger on her lips, the old woman returned to her task. Each grunt and groan louder than the last as she repeatedly lanced the soil with little effect.

Kyala watched the spectacle with growing irritation, a trait passed down from her mother. At last, Kyala had enough and gently pushed the exhausted crone aside and took over. She clasped the shovel's wooden handle with one hand and sank the blade with her foot. The earth parted with ease. Within a few minutes, she'd dug a hole deep enough for the bonsai tree.

The old woman picked up the bonsai tree from the ground with some amount of reverence. Her eyes locked on Kyala's as she offered it to her. Kyala contemplated the diminutive plant. Why would anyone plant a bonsai tree? Wouldn't that defeat its purpose? She hesitated.

The old woman's face grew quite serious. "Long ago, when haunted by terrible visions and portents, your father found solace in caring for a sapling and meditating on its existence. The consequences of a lifetime of work, through sadness, strife, and joy, are represented in its very being."

Kyala's hands trembled as she took the bonsai. Its tiny fruit swayed from side to side as what she held gained new significance.

"When Fire Lord Aang could no longer care for it due to his failing health I took over its maintenance. This is your father's work and his alone. I have merely maintained its health just for this moment."

Kyala felt numb as the old woman guided her to the hole. The old woman helped Kyala free the bonsai from the pot soil. Roots, long pruned to stunt growth, hung limp in Kyala's hand. Her father's hand worked for years on this beautiful little tree and he'd never even hinted at its existence with her or Bumi. Did her mother know? What other secrets did he keep hidden?

"It is right that since Aang is now reborn, so too should this bonsai tree be set free to grow as nature wills. That one of his own should be the one to unchain its potential."

Kyala realized that she'd dug the hole wrong for her father's life's work. Too wide. Too deep. Uncaring. She scooped the pile of soil with one hand and fixed what she could. Mixed the bonsai tree's soil with the earth and together with the tree itself placed them all in the ground with great care. The old woman slowly poured water on soil around the bonsai tree and together they packed the soil. "Bumi should be here," she thought to herself too late. This ceremony, if one could call it that, should've been just between her brother and her. Dirt clung to her hands and pants and she tried to clean them off when she stood up. "He's not going to forgive me for this." Kyala hung her head in shame.

_"Your mother is a monster..."_

The old woman poured the last of the water around the bonsai tree and bowed her head for a moment in silent prayer. She picked up the shovel and buckets then walked to Kyala's side. They both stared at the newly planted bonsai tree in silence for a moment. She whispered "You are right, of course. I am Piro. I have known your father since he reappeared in the world so long ago." Piro stretched out her hand and patted Kyala on the shoulder affectionately, "Take as much time as you need. We will speak in my home when you are ready."

Piro left Kyala in silence - complete silence. No birds sang. No crickets chirped. No owls hooted. No frogs croaked. It was as if every animal in the grove quieted themselves out of reverence. Or fear. Kyala watched Piro as she left - her mother's desperate warning echoed again in her head.

* * *

The carriage stopped half a mile from Piro's home at Kyala's request. She decided the best course of action was to scout the area before confronting the woman that caused her mother so much distress. Kyala stepped down from the carriage and turned to face her mother. A hard expression lined the Fire Lady regent's face. She'd regained her composure and appraised her daughter with a calculating look. She took a deep breath, "You'll need this, of course." Azula handed her daughter her airbender staff. Kyala grasped the offered end, but her mother didn't let go.

"Kyala, I...," Azula's eyes searched over her daughter as if to burn this moment into her mind forever. A parent can never preserve their children's innocence forever. "Your mother is a monster. I've done terrible things to keep that which I hold so dear safe. And all that I have done," Azula's closed her eyes and released her hold on Kyala's staff, "is in vain."


	4. The Board Is Set

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next few I'll be working on descriptions during conversation and general imagery. If you are so inclined, I'd love some constructive feedback on those points. General feedback is also welcome.

She screamed. Heavens how she screamed. Everywhere from the highest peak to the lowest valley could hear her voice as she yelled with all her might "Higher, Papa! Higher!"

* * *

Kyala surveyed her surroundings with a sense of unease. The simple stone patio, the red stained wooden pergola, and the creeping vines that wound their way up the pergola's pillars looks innocent enough. Fragrant yellow and pink flowers blossomed overhead with a sweet, almost heady, scent. Even the wooden chair was comfortable, if a bit worn.

Piro's home lay less than 15 feet away and she was surrounded by one of the most extraordinary displays of botany she'd ever seen. Bed after bed after bed of herbs, vegetables, fruits, and wild flowers stretched from door of the house to the edge of the grove. Thousands of plants of at least a hundred different species, some extremely exotic and difficult to cultivate in the best of conditions. Kyala watched breathtaking jeweled butterflies float effortlessly through the garden and alight on each flower. The petals bent delicately under their slight weight.

Even in the midst of this beauty, Kyala's eyes never strayed far from Piro's home. Inside, Piro brewed some of the finest tea in the Fire Nation, or so she claimed. Though Kyala didn't understand the game Piro played, she recognized she'd been hustled on her arrival. The bonsai tree was a tile on the board - to force her to move in a chosen direction or did the tree signify some other play? Kyala needed more information. She needed to step back and behold the board in its entirety and, if possible, her opponent. Piro used her father's death against her, Kyala was certain. She wished great uncle Iroh hadn't left them - Kyala could use his guidance right about now.

Piro appeared at the doorway of the house carrying a tray with a tea kettle, two cups, and something that looked like biscuits. Piro smiled brightly, as if she carried a long sought present to a favored grandchild. Kyala smiled and waved awkwardly. She resolved that, when she returned to the palace, she would requisition and lead a full platoon of the Fire Nation's best soldiers back here and put a halt to this game.

The tray clattered softly when Piro placed it on the small wooden table. Aromas of spice oolong wafted up from the tea kettle. Kyala's stomach growled unexpectedly. Traitor. Piro poured a generous cup and offered a small amber nugget to Kyala, "Honey?" Kyala contemplated the old woman. This moment was a gamble: was Piro the kind of person to poison someone they just met?

"Please," Kyala smiled and took both the crystallized honey and the tea cup. Just one sip tasted absolutely exquisite - a complex blend of subtle flavors unlike anything she'd ever tried before. She knew in her heart great uncle Iroh would've loved this tea. Kyala felt no twinge of pain. No sudden relaxation. No spreading numbness. No hint that the tea contained any poison, whatsoever. Piro sat down in the chair across from Kyala with a great sigh of relief.

Kyala took another tentative sip and then asked "How did you know I was Aang's daughter?"

Piro smiled gently and picked the tea cup from the table, "You appear to be an Air Bender dressed in Fire Nation styled clothing. There are precious few in this world that can claim both loyalties." The old woman brought the cup to her lips, took a long sip, then placed the cup back on the table. The old woman smiled warmly. "Your father and I were friends for a very long time. I would be remiss if I was unable to recognize one of his children."

Kyala looked beyond the gardens near the house and gestured to the grove. She needed to change the subject to prevent Piro from using her father as a means to get close. "That's not a sacred grove, is it?"

Piro frowned slightly and followed Kyala's gaze. "Once, yes. Before this land was stripped bare and forced to bear paltry crops for a ravenous army this grove had a unique purpose. One might appeal to benevolent spirits that inhabited the grove to guide the dearly departed in their next life. You would give a heartfelt offerings, no matter the size, as payment."

Kyala looked incredulous. "And you know this, how? I've never heard of such a belief."

Piro smile tightened somewhat. "You would be surprised how different the lives and beliefs of your peasantry are compared to what you might find in the palace. A future-ruler should know her people, don't you agree?"

The jab irritated Kyala. The nerve of this woman. "My brother, Fire Lord Bumi, rules well. On top of that, I don't want the throne."

Piro nodded thoughtfully. "Your father said something similar before he took on the mantle of Fire Lord. With Azula by his side, Aang made a fine and just ruler with Azula by his side. One is often surprised what they can accomplish once they choose to step up."

Bird song filled the silence between the young air bender and the old woman. Kyala weighed her options under the guise of sipping more tea. Her father rarely mentioned his time gallivanting across the world with his friends on the back of a flying bison. He regretted some act, some painful memory. What were their names again? There was Aang, her father, Azula, her mother, Sokka and Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, Toph of the Earth Kingdom, Ty Lee of the Fire Nation, and Piro, of the Earth Kingdom.

Kyala decided on a stratagem: if she could keep Piro talking and on the defensive, Kyala might be able to determine the game she found herself in. Perhaps, with some luck, she might even make a few moves of her own. Kyala made a calculated expression and wiped some tears from her eyes.

"So, how did you meet my father?"


	5. First Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I'm exploring ways of presenting the story. Let me know what works and what doesn't!
> 
> The past branches from canon at Blue Spirit, which begins in this chapter.

Colonel Shinu,

You are hereby ordered to divert what troops you can spare to reinforce our hold on Ba Sing Se.

Fire Lord Ozai

* * *

My Lord,

Allow me to express my deepest sympathies in losing Azula, your daughter, during the coup at Ba Sing Se. Your terrible loss is felt by us all. I met your daughter years ago in better times. She was the most fierce and clever young woman I'd ever had the pleasure of meeting. Her noble sacrifice ended the Avatar threat and paved the way for an end to this war. She is a true hero.

As for your request, I regret to inform you that I cannot provide you with the manpower you seek in strengthening our position in Ba Sing Se and continue to maintain order among the populace here. As you are well aware, last year Admiral Zhao ordered the use of 3 platoons worth of Yu Yan archers and support personnel in an effort to find and capture the Avatar. Of the 450 men and women dispatched to the mission, less than 60 found their way back to camp. Fewer than 20 were deemed fit for duty. The rest are presumed dead at the hands of the Avatar. To weaken my forces further would invite opportunities for open rebellion.

Of course, my troops and I will accommodate your orders to the best of our abilities. I await your decision.

Respectfully,  
Colonel Shinu

* * *

Colonel Shinu,

The situation at Ba Sing Se is more dire than first reported.

Mobilize your entire force and reinforce our position at Ba Sing Se under the command of my son, Prince Zuko. Leave no skeleton crew at the fortress nor leave any resources for resistance forces to find. You will be briefed more fully when you arrive. Leave without delay. Another regiment will arrive shortly to handle the locals.

Fire Lord Ozai

* * *

-Present day-

Piro averted her eyes away from Kyala and gazed at the barely visible tendrils of steam rising from her tea. She seemed lost for a few moments. Finally, Piro said "It's been 54 years since I first laid eyes on your father. He came in during a storm, the likes of which I'd not seen before nor since." She relaxed into her chair, closed her eyes and sipped from her cup as if drawing strength from the warm liquid. "Not even a teenager. He was spry, confident, bubbling with life, and in a such great hurry."

_"Hello! I'm sorry to barge in like this, but I need some medicine for my friends. They have fevers and they've been coughing and –"_

"What struck me most was his innocence. In my youth, the airbender tattoo meant death to its bearer. The Fire Nation paid a tidy sum to anyone who brought in an Air Nomad, real or otherwise. More than a few innocent souls found themselves kidnapped, their foreheads scarred, then sold to as Air Nomad refugees by their friends, family, or neighbors. By the time Aang returned to the world, the genocide Sozin started was nigh complete."

"Nigh? You mean some Air Nomads are still alive?"

Piro merely shrugged. "Like water, air may escape via even the most insubstantial gap."

_"You're insane, aren't you?"_

"What did you tell my father?" Kyala asked, despite herself. The implications of rogue Air Nomads still in existence today sent her mind racing. The loss of his people weighed heavily on Aang. To find even the most miniscule enclave would've brought such unimaginable joy. She checked her rage. Why would this woman, purported to be her father's friend, would hide this information? It made her blood boil.

"To have his companions suck on frozen wood frogs, but I'm sure you've been told that story. As I recall, Sokka was particularly incensed by that."

_"That's right," Piro returned to her task: a poultice to rid bot flies from infected troops. No gust of wind? No pitter patter of running feet? Piro looked up from her concoction. The airbender looked out her dumbfounded. He needed to get a move on. "Well, don't just stand there all day." Piro's whipped her spoon in Aang's direction. The black poultice landed squarely on his cheek. "Go!"_

"When did you start traveling with my father?" Kyala felt like that should've been the end of their interaction. Why would Aang return? Weren't Admiral Zhao's soldiers looking for him by then?

"Unfortunately, not long after." Piro shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"Why unfortunately?" Kyala leaned forward with interest and placed her cup of tea on the table.

"Because, as long as I live, I will never be able to forget the horrors of that night or what followed after."


	6. Kismet Astray

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This is from Piro's perspective and voice after Aang left the Herbalist Institute in Blue Spirit (episode 113).
> 
> I've been planning these scenes for quite a while. Please enjoy!
> 
> Warning: This story, starting with this chapter, may contain material, situations, and themes not suitable for younger readers.

It is hard to bring up these memories after burying them for so long. What I'm about to tell you is the honest truth.

With a rush a wind, Aang left my institute perhaps quicker than he'd arrived. I stepped to the threshold to see if I could follow him for a while, but he was already gone. Far above, a powerful storm gathered. Dark roiling clouds billowed high and seemed to glow with a sickly green light I hope to never see again. Big, fat raindrops already fell from the sky in sheets and lightning split the sky. The sheer speed at which the storm developed unnerved me. Miyuki rubbed against the back of my legs and meowed. "I'm sure he'll be fine. He is an airbender after all," I said.

For the next few minutes I prepared for the storm. Closed windows, move perishables from areas that might flood, douse any unnecessary candles - that sort of thing. It pays to be prepared for anything when you live completely on your own. With the institute settled, I sat and watched the storm from the front door. Don't you look at me like that. Neither before nor since have I witnessed a storm so powerful. It looked like it was going to be a hell of a show.

Brilliant blue-white lightning snaked across the sky and exploded on touching the earth. The wind screamed and carried the rain sideways at times. Thunder boomed so loud and often it felt like the beating of some monstrous drum than a storm. I watched in awe and, I will admit, some fear.

Some time later, at the height of the storm, I heard some _thing_ bellow. You could barely hear it over the cacophonous wind. At first it sounded like a person screaming. Screaming in rage or pain or frustration and with all of their being. Yet, it did not stop. It continued to grow in strength like the gathering wave of a tsunami. I tried to pinpoint the source, but before long the scream transformed into a thunderous, ear-splitting roar. I clapped my hands over my ears and threw myself against the wall, but I couldn't escape that noise. Every fiber of my being screamed with it. I felt it in my heart, heard it in my mind, tasted it as it poured out of my own mouth, saw it stream from my eyes.

Then, all at once, there was silence. An uneasy, tenuous silence. As if the merest whisper or cough would unleash divine retribution and doom the whole world. I slowly drew my hands down from around my face. Before me lay the institute, untouched. Shadows of plum blossoms danced in the candlelight. Books, papers, and mixing bowls were all as I'd left them. Everything was as it should be.

In my haste to find the mundane anchors of my solitary life, I almost missed Miyuki. She'd leapt down from the table. She was still there, mid-leap, frozen. Her hackles were raised, teeth bared, claws unsheathed. Not a whisker twitched nor did gravity hold any power over her. I reached out and almost touched her soft fur.

The earth lurched suddenly and I lost my footing. I crawled towards the institute entrance while the whole of Taku and beyond convulsed violently as if some colossal being alighted on the earth. That the whole of the world shrank away from its presence. One by one the candles toppled to the stone floor and shattered. Even after the tremors ceased, I hid in the darkness. From what? I don't know and at the time I didn't care. It wasn't until the first rays of morning teased the East and Miyuki bumped her head against my shin did I even dream of looking outside.

Not that there was much to see. A thick blanket of fog cloaked the world below the Institute. I descended the familiar, smooth steps down to Taku into that white sea. The mist was so thick and the way it swirled about you'd swear it was alive. The once worn, but solid steps took on a pitted and shattered quality not far from the top. Before long there was naught but muddy earth under my feet. Taku, too, seemed destroyed. Scoured from the mountainside with such force that I could see gouges in the earth where entire buildings took flight.

What lay at the base of Taku I never saw. The fog was too dense - my eyesight too poor. Still, I could sense the devastation that surrounded me in the absolute silence. Not a single bird called in the chill morning air. Even my own footsteps sounded muted.

I knew it was stupid to go out by myself, but there might be someone hurt, though I prayed not. In my wanderings I stumbled on a sharp rise in the ground and fell. Landed in some kind of pit. Banged up my arm pretty bad. I got to my knees and nearly screamed. There, at the center of the pit, lay Aang. Limp and twisted like a discarded doll. What remained of his clothes were mostly tatters. Deep bruises mottled his face and chest. Blood dripped from arrows sticking out of his left wrist and thigh. My pain forgotten, I ran to his side and desperately looked for life.

For several agonizing moments I felt his neck, held his wrist, listened to his chest. Nothing. I was too late to do anything. I pulled his head into my lap and cradled him there. I cried. I'm not ashamed of to admit that. Another life snuffed out in that abomination of a war. I rocked slowly, closed my eyes, and sung him a lullaby - something my mother used to sing to me when I was scared or frightened. I thought that, maybe, if his spirit still lingered, I could sooth him.

I'm not sure how long I stayed there holding him. Long enough, I suppose. I bowed my head gave a silent prayer. I got up and turned to go. I needed a shovel. I'd be damned if I let Fire Nation soldiers bring his body in like some sort of trophy.

"Why..." The whisper stopped me in my tracks.

"Why is your song so sad?"

I turned back and grey eyes stared at me through the fog. With strength I didn't even know I had I lifted the barely conscious boy in my arms. I walked a few feet before turning back to look at the pit one more time. I marveled at destiny. It should've been impossible for anyone to find your father and here I almost fell right on top of him. How long had he waited there for me after falling in himself?

I put all that I'd gone through the night before out of my mind and started the slow trek back. I carried your father up the steep incline to the institute. He was with me the whole way with an odd, slight smile - as if to tell me everything's going to be OK. I had quite a bit of work ahead of me and I could still lose him if I didn't hurry. Despite my best efforts, my mind kept returning to the pit. How it looked less and less like just a hole in the ground and more and more like a crater. As if the young airbender were swatted out of the sky like an errant mosquito.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: This scene parallels the end of Blue Spirit, though with some slight differences in timing.
> 
> As always, comments and suggestions are welcome.
> 
> Lastly, do the interlude letters work as they are, or are they confusing? Should they be segregated into their own chapters?

Fire Lady Azula,

You will find only bitter cold weather at the Southern Water Tribes, especially this time of year. There are only a handful of daylight hours and it's been unseasonably cold. I would strongly suggest you wait a few months before coming. If this isn't possible, we would of course gladly welcome a visit from the Avatar and his family. Much has changed in the South since Fire Lord Aang's last visit almost a decade ago. I doubt either of you would recognize it today. Our ports and cities, once destroyed and lost to the ice, now team with life and bustling economies. It really is a sight to behold.

How are your little ones? I understand Bumi takes after you and has the makings of a powerful firebender, now. How has he taken to affairs of state? You must be so proud. I've also heard that Kyala rides the air possibly better than Aang. Is it true that Aang lost to his daughter in last spring's 15th annual Father-Daughter airbender race. I owe a certain young woman some penguin rides.

I admit, just thinking about them makes me lament the fact that I never settled down to have a family of my own. I have so many duties to handle and projects to oversee here. You would not believe the full grown adults I must beg and cajole to do just about anything. Rebuilding a nation is a bit like raising a family in that way, I suppose.

Please give Aang my best and let him know we look forward to seeing all of you.

Katara

P.S. If you do decide to come, please bundle yourselves warmly. The last delegation sent from the Fire Nation was woefully unprepared for the bitter cold of this time of year.

P.P.S. We're plagued with a small infestation of hawk-rats in the Harbor City. They're wreaking minor havoc with the reconstruction efforts, in particular the harbor and industrial areas. If you have any suggestions on treatment, I would be able to spare much more of my time during your visit.

* * *

I did what I could for the poor boy in what time I had: removed the arrows, bandaged his wounds, even provided some potent medicines to help him rest. He babbled incoherently while I worked. Names and places that had no meaning for me. Events from long ago, when the airbender cities rose above the clouds. Moments of thrills followed by a deep sadness. Strange, though, that when I asked him about the previous night his eyes glazed over somewhat - as if he couldn't bring himself to remember some terror that haunted him still.

His body would mend in time and obviously I did a decent job, if I do say so myself. He lived a long and full life. And yet, I don't think he was ever the same. For the few minutes I met him, he seemed so full of life - worried, anxious even, but brimming with confident energy. The night changed him irrevocably. He would have a long and difficult journey, it's true. Still, he turned out alright in the end.

Hmm… now where was I? Ah, yes.

I've been around long enough to recognize instruments of war. While I didn't recognize the insignia etched into the shaft, those arrows were made in particularly Fire Nation style. Having lost their quarry the Fire Nation would return in force. The boy's singular hope depended upon his friends would come for him and soon. I busied myself as best as I could. I started making a new batch of horse-bat deterrent. It looked like thick yellow puss, tasted of pure awful, but smelled of mint and zest with that hint of kidney stone. The exercise took my mind off of the boy that slept quietly in the back room, at least for a while.

It wasn't long before a young man walked through my door. Thin and muscular with a mostly shaven head and a wolf's tail. He sniffed and took in my institute as if trying to determine if the windows could be used in some daring escape. He held himself with a mixture of confidence and anxiety as he approached my work bench. A young woman with long brown hair and blue eyes quietly walked in and made herself busy examining the the garden. Similar style clothes, similar skin tone - they looked to be together.

"Hi, we're looking for a friend of ours. Perhaps you've seen him. Short, bald, arrow tattoo on his head? He said he would stop by here last night."

"An arrow tattoo? Didn't your parents teach you that airbenders died out a long time ago? They were gone before I was a twinkle in my father's eye. He used to tell me story of airbenders in their prime, you know, before the Fire Nation attacked. Strange. It's rumored that the Fire Nation never killed the avatar in the initial attack, despite their proclamations. He may even be alive today! Wouldn't that just be crazy?"

The young man visibly blanched. In the coming months, this became kind of a game for me. Sokka, as he introduced himself to me later, was so easily rattled.

"You - uh - you don't say. Hey, what are you making? Porridge?" Before I could stop him, he'd scooped up a dollop of the horse-bat deterrent with his finger and put it in his mouth. I waited patiently at the door of the institute while the Sokka gargled water from a skin and spit profusely into the bushes. The young woman merely rolled her eyes and kept looking around. I did my best to keep my eyes on both of them. Kids in those days. The fog remained like an ocean just beneath the peak the institute sat upon. It blanketing the landscape as far as the eye could see despite the sun sitting high in the sky. And there, resting near the top of the steps was a flying bison.

He was quite possibly one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. Large and fluffy, like a cloud made snuggable. His soft fur waved inviting in the wind. I longed to wrap myself in his fur. Here, before me, was a creature of legend and it was exactly how I imagined the beast as a child. He rested on his side and I could hear his soft breathing from where he lay against the archway. His brown eyes peered at me with a nervous energy, not unkind, but not spritely, either.

With the evidence resting comfortably before me, I made my decision to trust Sokka and his companion, introduced later as his sister, Katara. I reasoned that if a flying bison brought them here, surely they must be friends with the boy. Sokka looked about done with his troubles. I left his sister to her own devices.

"That boy you were asking about, what was his name?"

From inside the institute came Katara's horrified scream, "AANNGG!" immediately followed by a loud thump like a sack of potatoes hitting stone floors.

"Katara!" Sokka yelled and scrambled inside, all pretenses of being ill dropped.

"No, don't!" I shouted at him and tried to grab hold of his robe as he bolted past me, but I was too slow. No, too old. I heard his feet pound down the institute halls until he, too, dropped unconscious at the threshold of the boy's room. I could only shake my head and waved in a placating manner at the now very alert flying bison.

"They're fine. Everything's going to be just fine." I tried to sound reassuring. Which one of us I tried to reassure I could not tell.

"I hope."


	8. Interlude: A Friend In Need - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: The scenes below continue from the letter in the beginning of the last chapter/section. Part 2 will follow soon.

\-- Harbor City, Winter of 152 AG - 5 months before Fire Lord Aang’s passing --

The Southern Water Tribe’s dialect contains over 63 words for snow. Ones for dry, flakey snow. Ones for wet, packed snow. Snow driven by wind, in sleet, and compressed in glaciers. Big fat flakes of the stuff lazily dropped through the air all around Fire Lady Azula as she quietly walked along the Southern Water Tribe’s Royal Palace outer courtyards. In the distance, the sun she depended upon sat weak and anemic. Its paltry rays paint the frozen landscape in hues of rose and orange. Azula pulled the auburn parka around her tighter and did her best to quell the urge to shiver. She made a solemn vow, then and there, to never take the sun’s warmth for granted again. Here, in the dead of winter, her sun’s zenith scarcely completely breached the horizon before leaving this land in nothing but a deep and bitter night.

Far away enough not to call attention to herself, but still in direct line of sight, Azula allowed herself the briefest of pleasures. Her husband created and launched snow higher and higher at the delighted shrieks of her grandson, Lu Ten. At 14 he was the youngest of three, a face as if chiseled from marble, and coal black hair braided down to his hips. With the speed and agility only an overconfident teenager can muster, Lu Ten packed wayward clumps of snow and ice into Aang’s pile.

Three enormous spheres built with care on top of each other. The snowman, now over 19 feet tall, looked to be shaping up nicely. At the top of the snowman Kyala sculpted a titanic crown with some clever use of her kite. A smile crept onto Azula’s face despite her best efforts. This moment was something she would cherish for the rest of her life. A rare moment of unbridled joy in a sea of anguish.

“It’s uncanny. It is as if your family has captured the very essence of our harbor master.” Azula glanced at the source and found Katara walked slowly in her direction, admiring the activities. She’d aged since last Azula saw her. More streaks of grey, wrinkles, and a look of quiet grace in accepting her best days were behind her. Then again, hadn’t they all?

Azula looked up at the snowman, which had started to lean on one side. “I’m not sure I see it. He looked much smaller and more muscular in person.”

Katara smirked, “Oh, I certainly do. I see a self-important hedonist with delusions of grandeur: a wanna-be king. They’ve even got his vacuous face just right.”

Azula stifled a laugh and offered her gloved hand to Katara. “It’s so good to see you again, Katara.” Katara shocked Azula with a full, warm embrace. Of all of the possible outcomes Azula considered when meeting Katara again for the first time in over a decade, this was not one of them. The two parted the embrace, but before Azula could create any distance Katara clasped her hand and hurried her along a path leading around the courtyard.

“I want you to know that I’m eternally grateful for your help in dealing with the hawk-rats.” Katara whispered furtively, “An infestation now would be devastating.”

Azula relaxed a bit and nodded. “The Fire Nation’s most capable exterminators are at your service. Merely point out the signs of the infestation and they’ll do the rest.” The two walked in silence for a few more steps before Azula blurted out. “You’re being too obvious.”

Katara stopped immediately and looked perplexed. She glanced in every direction. “I… wasn’t I discrete enough?.”

Azula gave a knowing smile and nodded at the snowman. “No, not you. You did well. I’m talking to Kyala.”

Katara glanced again at the top of the snowman. Kyala sculpted haphazardly, her face reddened with frustration - as if a petulant child caught raiding the cookie jar. An odd expression for one who would soon be 27. “How?”

“Airbending. Something to do with directing the sound with subtle air currents. She’s used it to great effect, but she always puts on this goofy face while doing it. Like she can’t control the air without her tongue hanging out.” Azula laughed and pulled Katara along. They passed beyond the courtyard and started down the palace steps.

“Am I correct in understanding Kyala’s not taking an interest in any of her suitors?”

“Kyala? No. There is but one man who makes her heart burn so, but he spurned her advances all those years ago. I’m afraid her infatuation with him may turn fatal one of these days.”

Katara scoffed indignantly, “My nephew? Still?!?! They were 10! 10!”

Azula couldn’t stop herself from laughing. It felt so good. “And on that day she vowed she would wed him. My daughter is surprisingly stubborn when she puts her mind to it.”

The two friends had a good laugh. Friends? Such an odd word. Were they friends? They’d not spoken to each other in well over a decade. Their singular commonality was the man in the courtyard behind them crafting the finest snowman the Southern Water Tribe had ever seen. Was that enough for what Azula felt she needed.

Together, at the bottom of the palace steps, they watched the sun’s inexorable march below the horizon again. In the last rays of the sun, Azula asked the one question she knew would lead to what she needed most: release.

“What made you decide not to start a family, Katara?”

Azula kept her eyes on the dwindling sun. Big fat snowflakes continued their slow descent from themottled grey clouds that spawned them. Was now the right time to ask? Would it ever be? Azula felt she had no choice. She needed this now, before the world enacted some new cruelty on her. Azula waited with baited breath for Katara to respond. She didn’t have to wait long.

“I guess it’s a bit like what your daughter Kyala is going through. Someone comes into your life out of the blue. They’re this great force of nature and your world seems to be right with them in it. You begin to think that this is how the world should be, how it’s always been, how it’ll always be. And then one day they leave,” Katara sighed as darkness swallowed the world beyond the palace. “No one ever seems to measure up.”

One by one the Royal Palace’s outside lights flickered on and bathed the ice and falling snow with pale yellows and silvery blues. Katara adjusted her hair briefly before she turned slowly to Azula. A single tear trickled down Azula’s left cheek before she wiped it away.

“No no no, it’s not your fault, Azula. Aang - I mean, we were close, but I never told him. We were all in such a crazy whirlwind back then! Ba Sing Se, the Day of Black Sun, Sozin’s comet,” Katara said and took Azula’s gloved hands in her own. “Why, after all of these years do you ask now?”

The silence stretched between them for what felt like hours. They were friends, right? And yet, she couldn’t say it. As if uttering mere words would end everything she loved in the world.

“You’re shaking. Azula, what’s wrong?”

Azula unconsciously tried to pull away, but Katara held firm.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Katara whispered soothingly, “It’s ok.”

“I’m losing him,” Azula whispered so softly Katara almost didn’t hear the words over the soft falling snow.

“What?”

“Sometimes, like today, he’s fine. He’s,” Azula seemed to be looking for the right words, “he’s my Aang. We joke. He sings while I play the gehu. He plays with the grand-children. He teaches the young airbenders. He’s everything I never knew I needed when I was still under my father’s thumb.” Azula spat out “father” as if it were an insult. “And then there are other days. Days prefaced by night terrors.”

Katara felt the breath catch in her throat and the color drain from her face. _Oh no._

“He’s running away from something in these dreams. I can tell because his legs are kicking so fast. The whole bed is shaking with his effort to escape something. I yell at him to stop. I try to slap him awake. Oh god, Katara, I’ve even burned his wrist.” Azula visibly shuddered at the memory - begging and pleading lead to desperation and the odor of burnt flesh. “Always sooner rather than later he’s caught by it. His body tenses up, trembles, and then he just screams. I just - I run away, Katara. Out of our bedroom. Out of the palace. I can’t handle him like that.”

Katara covered her mouth in shock and horror.

“He stops, eventually. And then he’s in this dreamy state for days - like he can’t see anything in front of him at all. He talks like he’s still galavanting around the globe on Appa’s back. Sometimes he tells me he thinks Sokka and Ty Lee might be getting close. Sometimes he’s fighting me in his dreams. Sometimes he whispers about how beautiful he thinks you look, Katara.” Azula’s legs buckled underneath her and she dropped to the ground with racking sobs. Katara followed her down and held her close.

“Something is stealing my husband from me, bit by bit,” Azula growled in anger, “ and it gets worse each time and no one can help,” Azula scoffed bitterly at the memories of every sage, cleric, or exorcist that wasted her time. “He’s slipping through my fingers, Katara.”

“What do you need me to do?” Katara whispered through her own tears.

“Heal him, please!” Azula whimpered, “You’re the only hope I have left.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: The letters follow the events in "A Friend in Need: Part 1" while the narration continues Piro's account after "Have You Seen Him?"
> 
> Please let me know what you think as well as any constructive criticism.

Katara,

Humans are not welcome in my library. I will not allow the knowledge contained therein to be exploited by selfish humans, such as yourself, again.

I find your goal, while laudable, misguided. I find your offer, while substantial, inadequate.

No.

Wan Shi Tong

* * *

Fire Lady Azula,

I begrudgingly accept your terms.

The Knowledge Seeker that delivers this message is my liaison in the physical realm until your task is completed. Merely request the tomes you seek and, if they reside within my library, my agent will retrieve them for you.

Upon completion of the task, you will surrender payment to it immediately regardless of the outcome. The Knowledge Seeker shall not be followed or impeded in any manner by you or any of your agents. Failure to comply with my requirements will be met with swift punitive action.

Wan Shi Tong

* * *

I looked down at the unconscious forms of Katara and Sokka on the stone floor. They’d collapsed just inside the threshold to Aang’s room with their arms outstretched. Beyond them, Aang’s room was pitch black with the bold exception of a dull blue glow. The glow pulsed slowly from its point of origin at the center of the room. I breathed a sigh of relief: everything was exactly as I’d left it.

I shut the door and, one after the other, I carried Sokka and Katara outside to the fresh, open air. Your father’s Flying Bison, Appa, plodded over to inspect them. A winged lemur peered out from the saddle and chittered at me.

“They’re alright,” I explained in a soothing voice as I braced myself, “They’ll be right as rain once they wake up. Your rider is safe inside, too. I know he’ll be glad to see you.” I spoke mostly to myself. At the time I didn’t realize Appa understood human speech. Do all Flying Bison? I really should look that up one of these days.

Below my institute, the fog held as thick as ever. From my vantage point, it looked as if alive. It rolled and swirled, billowed in some places while contracting in others. It breathed and and stretched out tendrils almost in an exploratory fashion. I could swear it searched the whole of its domain for some lost prey.

“Hey-hey, stop it, Appa! I’m awake! I’m awake!” Katara called out. I glanced back to see the flying bison turn its attention to Sokka. Appa’s great red tongue licked him ferociously. No one could stay unconscious for long against that onslaught. I smiled for the first time all day. It didn’t last long.

From closer to the gates of Taku it had any right to, I heard a loud thumpand a crimson light pierced the fog bank and soared high in the sky: a signal flare. Other flares soon joined the first. The fog underneath took on a bloody quality. Fire Nation reinforcements neared, silent as the grave. I didn’t know if my institute was their destination, but I had no interest in finding out.

“They’re after Aang, aren’t they?” Katara said from behind me. So rude, these young ones.

“Your airbender friend? I believe they became acquainted with each other shortly after he left my institute last night.” I said. I went to say more, but only a gasp escaped my throat. Down far below, the fog gathered underneath the flares. At first I thought my eyes played tricks on me. It happens more than I care to admit. Yet, there it was: from all across the valley currents of fog formed. I don’t know how else to describe it. It was like a streams merging to form rivers. Or an ant colony on the move. The fog surged and swarmed.

“What happened before? I was looking around and then… I - did we faint?”

I don’t think Katara saw what I saw. I’m not even sure I saw what I saw. Gouts of flame? Smoke? Could the soldiers be under attack? By fog?

“Something like that,” I managed to tear my gaze away and look Katara in the eyes - those cool, determined eyes. “Your friend, Aang you said? He’s stable for now, but he isn’t long for this world as he is now.” I beckoned her to follow me into the institute. Sokka, too. Poor boy - he was covered head to toe in flying bison slobber and looked dazed. “I will need both of your help to move him.”

Inside, Miyuki merely blinked at us with her jade eyes from her perch atop the dried herbs cabinet.

“Aang can’t die.” Katara held firm, “He’s the Avatar. He’s going to fix everything.”

“Then we will need to get him to a powerful healer and soon.” I stopped them outside his door. I dipped small towels in a cold water basin and set about the task of putting them on. “You’ll need to tie these around your head to cover your nose and mouths before you enter. Don’t take them off until we’re outside in the fresh air. They’ll protect you.” Katara put it on without question, but Sokka looked dubious at my offering.

“From what?” Sokka asked.

I tied the towel around my head before answering. “From one of the most potent sedatives in my arsenal. So put it on, unless of course you enjoy a bathing in flying bison spittle.”

The blue glow in Aang’s room greeted us. I followed them inside before I shut the door. On the far wall, bathed in the light of a glowing mushroom, Aang slept peacefully.

“What is that?” Sokka asked with wonder at the mushroom.

“Lactarius illumine. It’s found mostly hanging from the ceilings of underground caves. When fruiting it emits a chemical that incapacitates any creature in the vicinity. Water inactivates the chemical while fire halts the fruiting process entirely. In a pinch it makes for an excellent, fast acting sedative.”

While Sokka stood mesmerized, Katara seemed to only have eyes for Aang.

“What’s wrong with him?” She asked. She caressed his head tenderly.

I pointed to his left leg. The bandage was nearly soaked. I’d need to replace it soon enough.

“Embedded deep in his femur is a serrated arrowhead. I’ve tried, but I can’t remove it. I’m not physically strong enough. It wounds him further each time he moves that leg. I could only put him to sleep in hopes help would arrive.”

Between the three of us, it didn’t take us long to carry him to the flying bison. What a sorrowful moan it made when it saw Aang - broke my heart. Before we left, I knelt down in front of Miyuki and asked her to hold down the fort for a few days. Little did I know it would be closer to a few months. I still don’t think she’s forgiven me.

“Will your cat be OK while you’re gone?” Sokka asked.

“Miyuki knows how to handle herself. She’s wanted by the Fire Nation, y’know.” I waved to my beloved Miyuki as we lifted off. She merely licked her chops.

“Uh huh.”


	10. Our Desperate Search

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a bit longer than expected. I hope you enjoy it! The letter at the top continues the "A Friend In Need" story while the narration continues Piro's account.
> 
> As always, please leave reviews, comments, suggestions!

Katara,

I admit, I did not expect to ever receive a letter from you, again. I’d like to apologize, again, for how things ended between us. I realize now that rebuilding the Southern Water Tribe will always be the most important aspect of your life. it was selfish of me to try to take its place. I hope that one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

To answer your query, yes, I know of a number of ailments that present themselves with the symptoms you describe. In my experience after the symptoms manifest the decline is rapid and proves fatal, one way or another, in the end. I’ve found no treatment to slow the process or cure to restore a patient’s mental faculties. With that said, if your gut tells you his decline is spiritual in nature, I would follow that to the end.

To aid your work, this packet contains all of old Yugada’s research on the Spirit Oasis after Princess Yue’s salvation by Tui and La. Her notes indicate a number of avenues to explore. Additionally, you will find a vial of water from the Spirit Oasis. Sadly, the water will not cure any mental decline, but perhaps you will be able to find another use for it.

Hoka

* * *

With Aang wrapped in furs for protection and sound asleep, Katara, Sokka, and I discussed options. Any number of villages or cities might have a healer with enough knowledge and skill to remove the arrowhead without hurting Aang further. Any number of villages or cities might also contain Fire Nation spies or saboteurs. I argued that Aang’s only real hope lay in finding the last completely independent nation: the Northern Water Tribe. There we would find not only skilled healers, but also a waterbending master for Aang to learn from.

I honestly didn’t expect for them to come around to my way of thinking so quickly. I found it a pleasant surprise, like finding one’s prized hyacinths survived a sudden cold snap. Kids have so little respect for their elders nowadays, let me tell you. Katara and Sokka, I was certain, would’ve pushed for the easy fix. Not so. Your father was a great judge of character, even then.

We traveled a day and a night before taking our first real break where I gathered herbs in open meadows, mostly ginger and meadowsweet. The next day we came upon a grove of black willow where, while I cultivated some of its bark, I stumbled upon peppermint. I count myself lucky that nature provided to us in our time of need. You can see where I’m going with this, I’m sure. Though Aang’s condition looked hopeful in the beginning, he developed a fever before long.

The journey north ended up being longer than anyone anticipated. Sokka pointed out interesting landmarks or cities along the way. He even spotted an erupting volcano one night to our south. Lava surged from the lip of the cone and bathed the world in a deep amber glow. Fires raged all around and lightening streaked from the ever growing ash cloud. It was beautiful, in its own terrible way. It was very disheartening to all of us, especially Aang, when we later found out a village existed at the volcano’s base. In his mind, he should’ve been there to saved those people. Their deaths, like so many to come, haunted him without mercy.

Katara - hmmm - Katara seemed distant, though I don’t think that’s the right word. She centered her attention, her entire being even, on Aang. She wiped the sweat from his brow, fed him those times he came to, sung songs while he slept. Katara ate little and slept less in the days after we left Taku. Once, I witnessed her fumble with the knot on her pack and so I offered to help. She merely stared at me with this look of utter confusion and defeat.

Sokka tried to lighten the situation with a joke - something innocent. I thought it was funny. Katara didn’t. She unloaded on him, screaming that he was being insensitive. They argued and shouted and through it all Aang slept blissfully unaware. They ended up going to separate ends of Appa: Sokka to the front to guide Appa, Katara to the rear to tend Aang. I quietly took stock from the middle and weighed my options. A sleeping draft may have made it into her water at some point during the third day.

Yeah? And what would you have done in my shoes? Tame the savage, frustrated, starving, and exhausted beast with a song? Maybe tell her to calm down? I’m sure that would’ve gone just swimmingly. She slept long into the night and only woke as we passed over the glittering shores of the Northern Water Tribe. The glaciers glittered like a sea of diamonds, bathed in the waxing moon high overhead. We soon made camp on a tundra with no visible landmarks as far as the eye could see. It was the flattest, most desolate land I’d ever laid eyes on.

Appa, too, suffered under the burden. His great body trembled with exhaustion and I am sure the paltry fruits and vegetables we had with us did little to slake his rumbling belly. While Sokka and Katara packed snow and ice to make a small shelter, he curled himself around Aang and watched their progress with one eye open. Those two finished with amazing speed. When we went to bring Aang inside we found Appa fast asleep. Poor thing. Did you know that flying bison snore when exhausted? His snores felt like they traveled for miles and miles across the frozen tundra.

Once we had Aang inside the shelter, Katara snuck a glance in my direction then to Sokka. I nodded, catching her meaning, and went inside to tend to your father. A family is like a garden: years of hard work may be undone in a moment of weakness. Left untended, an herb may whither and die unnoticed until you need it the most. Katara needed some time alone with Sokka and your father, well, he was looking more and more like he needed a miracle.

Aang shivered despite the pile of furs and blankets we’d wrapped him in. His skin was cold to the touch and his breaths were short and quick. I slid the blankets from his lower half and inspected the arrow wound. A red streak snaked across his skin from the wound towards his hips: blood poisoning, a disastrous sign. Aang would lose this battle unless we could find help. Of the handful of plants I knew of that might turn the tide, none tolerated the northern latitudes. Even Taku, with its mild climate, is unsuitable for them.

I expressed what I could, rewrapped the wound, and pulled the covers over him again.I think I even said a prayer. Hah! How foolish was that? When, over the last 100 years, had the spirits intervened in the mortal realm?

“Hey,” Katara said from the shelter’s entrance. Tiny snowflakes, glittering like jewels, danced outside behind her. She looked like she’d been crying. “How is he?” she said with a shaky voice.

I wiped his brow with my palm. Aang whimpered softly in his sleep.

“Would you like to hear the good news or the bad?” I stood up and got out of her way.

“Good.”

“He’s going to have one hell of a scar to show off to girls.”

Katara stifled a laugh and wiped away a tear. She was remembering a happier time, perhaps?

“And the bad?”

“Despite all of my knowledge and experience, your friend is losing this battle. Unless we can find a skilled waterbending healer soon, he is not long for this world. There’s more than an errant arrow in his thigh. More than a mere infection. However, I can’t suss out what.”

Katara knelt down next to Aang and stroked his cheek. “We should leave, now, then. We can find the Northern Water Tribes tonight. I know we can.” Poor girl was at her wits’ end. “We have to.”

“We could, I suppose.” I mused. “Appa might be able to fly us around an unfamiliar continent for a while, perhaps a few more hours. Once Appa can go no further, we could hike for perhaps a few hours more. Maybe we could split up to cover more ground. With the little food and water we have left, I’m sure at least one of us has a slim chance to be picked up by a patrol. That is, of course, assuming they patrol the tundra.”

Katara looked at me askance. “He’s this world’s last hope!” she hissed at me. Katara balled her fist until her knuckles turned white and she closed the distance between us,“We can’t lose Aang!”

Any other time I might’ve schooled her on the finer points of heaping all of your hopes and dreams on asingle individual along with the realities of reincarnation. She looked like she had more to say, however, and I looked expectantly. I have no idea how long we stared at each other. What a trio we must’ve looked like. Katara burning with a determined defiance, my own countenance tempered by a lifetime of hardship and pain, and Aang shivering under his pile of blankets on the floor, blissfully unaware.

After what seemed like ages, Katara broke the silence and whispered through gritted teeth, “When I was 8, the Fire Nation came to our village looking for a waterbender: me. I was the Souther Water Tribe’s last waterbender. To protect me, my mother lied and said she was the waterbender they sought. They didn’t take her prisoner. They didn’t interrogate her. They murdered her. Those monsters didn’t even leave a body for us to bury! Just… just ash.”

She blinked back tears, but they weren’t from despair. “Her sacrifice for me, that - that has to mean something! It has to have a purpose and I know Aang is that purpose. I was protected so that I could help him save this world. If that means I have to carry him on my back alone through blizzards or Fire Nation soldiers or anything else stupid enough to get in my way only to reach the Northern Water Tribe with my dying breath, then so be it. If he lives to fight another day, to bring balance back to this world, I will bear any cost! Any burden!” She dismissed me with a quick turn and knelt by Aang. She busied herself getting him ready to travel again.

Yes, your father was a fabulous judge of character. Watching her busily secure Aang with rope and leather reminded me of myself of when I was her age. Determined, fiery, and quite foolish. She was growing on me. I gently placed my hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t try to stop me, Piro.” Katara warned.

“How can I? I doubt the Fire Lord himself could stop you. Still, fuzzy Appa is in no shape to fly, your brother hasn’t slept since long before the sun came up, and you traveling by yourself on the frozen tundra with the world’s salvation on your back may not be the best plan.”

“And I suppose you have a better one?”

“A more insane one, at the very least,” I knelt down beside her and pulled a strap taught. “Many hands make light work.”

We traveled East from the shelter under moonlit skies, twinkling stars, and breathtaking ribbons of green and gold that rippled and weaved along the tapestry of the night. The plan, if you could call it that, was for Appa and Sokka to rest up until first light, then come from behind and pick us up. Our only hope, now, was that some patrol or another would find us. We trudged for hours in the bitter cold completely unaware that we were being watched. In fact, we found out later that our every movement had been tracked from the moment Appa first flew over Northern Water Tribe waters.

If only they’d come out to say hello from the start.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays!

Fire Lady Azula,

At your request, I have located and compiled your husband’s personal journals and formal diplomatic logs since your betrothal in 100 AG. My team and I spent the 3 days allotted to us indexing and summarizing as much as possible. Special attention given to long term diplomatic plans and your husband’s personal entries during their development. As of this letter, I find no hint of foul play or “strange notions,” as you termed it.

The loan of the typing machines was invaluable in speeding up or progress. Unfortunately, we were unable to meet your full requirements. With this letter, you will find the collated entries as well as the remaining journals and ledgers beginning in 148 AG. Kyala, having spent much time with us in the archives throughout her life, is on par with my best analysts. I am confident in her abilities to complete this task.

It is my hope that this information assists your husband in his speedy recovery. You are in all of our prayers.

Vika  
Fire Nation Head Royal Archivist  
[ROYAL SEAL]

* * *

 

Anyway, as I said, we traveled East. At least, we started by traveling East. There was naught but perfectly flat snow and ice as far as the eye could see with only the stars and moon to guide us. Thankfully, Katara seemed to have hear bearings even if I was completely disoriented. I followed directly behind her, matching her footfalls when I could.Something about her upbringing or perhaps just being a waterbender guided her to the safest routes where all I saw was just more ice and snow. Early in our journey I stepped deep into a snow drift - up to my hip. Katara, of course, came to my rescue. How embarrassing. Hah! I was mortified. Couldn’t even take a walk without needing the assistance of youth.

When the wind picked up, we were blinded by flurries of snow and ice. All you could do was put your head down and keep on trudging forward. I bore Aang through it all. Perhaps it was the gravity of the situation, but be was not as heavy a burden as one would think. Katara protested the arrangement, of course, but I argued successfully that she should have her hands free to waterbend in case of an emergency.

And she did waterbend. There, under the stars, Katara explored her powers at first tentatively, then with growing confidence. Falling snow parted for us. The wind, at one point, suddenly lost its sting. Rivers of ice and snow flowed for our benefit, either out of our way or to reinforce our path. I could only watch in awe. She was very much an amateur, but she made up for it in raw potential. My awe turned to concern when she raised several man-sized piles of ice and, with one rage filled scream, swept her arms forward with a lunge and obliterated them. Katara stopped, breathing heavily as chunks of ice rained down around us. Somewhere out on vast expanse of ice a wolf howled long and low.

I knelt down and eased Aang from my back. My shoulders burned and my hips ached. Seemed like a good as time as any to take a rest break. I knelt down a took somedeep breaths. Heavens it was cold. If there’s one thing I’ll remember from that night, it was the aching cold that just spread through you like a plague. Katara looked at me, but I could not see her face as it was obscured by shadow.

“How is he?” Katara asked, a hint of her own exhaustion bleed into her voice.

I cradled Aang’s head in my lap and checked his vitals: weak. So weak. I shook my head. “He’s hasn’t been reincarnated, yet.” I dribbled some water from my water skin into his mouth. He barely seemed coherent, yet somehow he managed to drink, anyway.

Katara circled us a few times, sweeping the horizon with each pass. I could barely make out anything against the ground and I was curious what, if anything, she was looking for. She froze suddenly and glanced at me over her shoulder. “We need to get moving,” she warned and turned her attention to whatever she’d spotted. She seemed to straighten up - to appear as tall and imposing as possible.

“What do you see?” I hefted Aang onto my back again, a little less gentle than I’d hoped. Aang merely grunted.

“A pack of wolves. 4 or 6. It’s hard to tell in this light.”

“Perhaps they’re just on the move?”

“No such luck, I’m afraid. They’re spread out over a wide area trying to box us in. We need to get somewhere where we can defend ourselves easier.”

I looked around and found nothing but flat tundra. No happy outcropping or ravine or cliff. A few areas that may be ponds during summer days, but were frozen solid now. “I see only ice and snow. Tell me your plan involves one of those.”

“I think I can make a shelter with my bending, but they’ll dig under it if it’s on snow. Where’s the closest patch of ice?”

And we moved quickly. Well, as quickly as an ancient woman hefting a 12 year old boy cajoled by a 14 year old girl. I could hear them before long. They noticed our change in direction or maybe it was just time. Out of the dark, another long howl echoed across the tundra. This time the howl was answered by what sounded like dozens of calls from every direction. We were well and truly surrounded. Boy did that light a fire under my ass. Hah!

I was moving so fast I didn’t realize when we reached the ice. Of course, I slipped - barely kept my balance while I desperately tried to find my footing. Katara had better luck. She was in her element, that girl. She glided on the ice with ease and caught my elbow. With one fluid motion, we knelt down, Aang between us, and she wove a bubble of ice around us. The thick walls were clear enough to see through, though it warped the view of the outside world somewhat.

“You’ve faced wolves before, I assume?” I asked, hopefully, “You seem pretty knowledgable on the subject.”

“I only know the stories our dad told us. Stay in one spot and defend yourself. Make yourself look bigger than you are. Whatever you do, don’t run. Whistle sweet songs and they’ll go to sleep.” She laughed at the absurdity of the advice. “What I wouldn’t give to have him here.”

We waited for what seemed like hours, but what was probably closer to 2 or 3 minutes. The wolves came from all directions. A sea of grey and white fur, snarling and panting. Warped by the ice, their visage and forms looked warped and unnatural. They scratched and bounced off the ice wall, testing its strength with their claws. They dug at the ice patch itself, but found little purchase. They howled and whined in their frustration. We just sat there. Both of us felt on edge.

A thundering bark like an oak trunk splintering caught everyone’s attention: ours and the wolves. In unison, the wolves fled in a single direction only to return flanking the largest wolf I’d ever seen: the alpha. You could barely make it out in the dark, its fur was so black. It glared at us with crimson eyes. Leading with a sonorous howl that pierced my heart with terror, the alpha coordinated what started as a bobbing motion that rippled through the whole pack. Crouching, then leaping forward a bit, before returning to their original position. They moved in perfect harmony with each other. It almost looked like…

“They’re bending!” Katara screamed and leapt on top of Aang and me.

The wolves leapt forward as one. I heard the deafening crack of the ice exploding followed by Katara screaming. The world whirled around me as I rocketed through the air before greeting the frozen earth with my left shoulder. I tumbled a few times and felt the sickening snap of my collarbone breaking, but somehow I felt no pain. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug. I struggled to move I was so disoriented. My limbs felt like they were made of taffy and they moved long after I told them to. I couldn’t focus and had lost all sense of myself.

Katara’s shrieking brought me to - crystalized my thoughts. I rolled to one side and saw Katara trying to fend off the pack. Grey shapes darted at Katara forcing her to defend her bend, only to feint while another made a dash at Aang. The wolf grabbed Aang by the leg and started to drag him away. He moaned and Katara shouted with defiance and attacked it, only for the wolf to run while another sank its teeth into her ankle from behind. Katara screamed in anguish and waterbent a spear of ice right through the wolf, pinning it to the ground. It squealed and struggled against the ice, strong paws kicking snow and ice before it slumped against the spear. Blood gushed from Katara’s wound, but she hobbled over to Aang, anyway. The wolves fell farther back and circled her, wary of her bending, but undeterred.

I somehow found the strength to stand. What was my masterful plan to ward off our certain death? Truth be told, I had none. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I just knew that if I could get to Aang and Katara things would work out. I limped a few feet only to find my path blocked by the pack’s alpha male which had its full attention on me. It advanced slow and snarled with teeth bared. Glistening, perfectly white teeth. That and the red eyes were all I could see of it.

I was wrong when I thought it had black fur. It had no fur. Nor a body, that I could discern. Nothingness bound to a wolf’s shape - as black as a starless sky and bottomless as the deepest ocean. The snow that drifted on the wind fell into. Not as snow catching on fur, but falling into an endless chasm. It cast no shadow nor did the ample moonlight illuminate any features. A true unworldly horror stood before me and I froze. I’d seen my share of war and pain and suffering. On the rare occasion I’ve even interacted with spirits when the need arose. Yet this? Beyond my comprehension.

The alpha snapped its menacing jaws and lunged. All I could do was shut my eyes. My entire body went rigid, prepared for a quick death. I heard the thud of a powerful impact and felt a spray of snow on my face, but I was still standing. When I opened my eyes, I saw the most beautiful sight in days.

A large cat, white with black spots intervened. It gored the nightmare’s side with sharpened antlers and fought to overwhelm the beast. The wolf howled in pain and snapped wildly at the snow leopard reindeer, but to no effect. Atop rode a masked warrior in a blue leather parka lined with polar bear fur. With one smooth gesture he called up a deluge of snow and sent the wolf tumbling end over end. I might’ve found the effect funny had I not almost died moments before.

The wolves that antagonized Katara and Aang left their prey and rushed to the creature’s defense. Some formed a snarling and growling defensive line between it and our savior while others coaxed their fallen leader up. It stood, shakily. For a long moment, it gazed at us with those red eyes. Was it calculating chances of success or putting our faces to memory? Then, it barked and turned. The pack ran off in silence.

We watched the wolves depart in silence. The warrior’s snow-leopard reindeer anxiously paced back and forth until they were well out of range. Finally, the warrior slid off his mount and approached me cautiously.

“Are you alright?” the warrior asked.

“No, but there’s someone who needs your help more.”


	12. Under the Frozen Knife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I took a short break after the holidays, then managed to get sick a few times. I should be back on track, now,
> 
> As always, please leave comments, suggestions, and constructive criticism! Please enjoy!
> 
> Warning: some adult content in this one.

Have you ever watched a flame, Kyala? I mean really watch it. There’s this release from the fuel: a slow blackening stretching out like fingers. The subtle pull of air rushing to feed it. Hovering just above is the base of the flame - golden orange or blue - the last legacy of a life once lived. The flame curves up and, in undulating waves, licks the air. It stretches out as high as it can in a search for sustenance. Its singular purpose: to spread and grow and consume until there is nothing left. If it fails, its own fuel inevitably dwindles to nothing and it dies.

Hoka’s fire burned brightly in the shelter he and Katara bent from ice and snow. Confined to a hand hewn black soapstone bowl, fed by seal blubber, the fire brought a life and warmth I thought I’d never experience again. Blessed relief. My limbs were so heavy by then. It took all my strength to stay present after the adrenaline high subsided. Hoka’s hardtack, a type of hard biscuit, helped. Not the flavor, mind. It had none. Oddly enough, it was the act of chewing, gnawing. Like a favored bone to a dog, the act of working the hardtack tapped some primal source. I managed to relax without succumbing to exhaustion.

Nami, Hoka’s snow-leopard reindeer, regarded us with no small amount of stoicism. She stretched along the fur lined floor languidly, her tail twitched back and forth. Every now and again a sound somewhere far in the distance would draw her attention to the shelter’s entrance, a narrow 2 foot opening. She drew the night in with her keen eyes and ears for a few moments, then relaxed again. Her presence ensured we saw no more incursions that night, wolf or otherwise.

Much like his mount, Hoka had a quiet intensity about him. He nodded thoughtfully to Katara as she quickly explained the situation. He was a head taller than Katara and she had to look up to meet his hazel eyes framed by unkempt jet black hair. A patchwork of ill fitting clothes barely contained what I can only describe as powerful physique: the results of a hard life and a good lineage. Late teens, possibly older. I wondered at his state. How long had he suffered in the wilds with Nami as his only companion? Was he an outcast from the Northern Water Tribes or merely a lost soldier? Worse? We didn’t have any other option.

Once Katara finished her account, he asked simply “And you have come all this way on mere hopes and dreams?” He is face betrayed no emotion.

“It’s all we have left,” Katara responded.

Hoka nodded and knelt beside Aang. Poor Aang. With a meaty hand, Hoka gently wiped the sweat from Aang’s brow. I want to say I saw the slightest bit of surprise take over his features, then, but I could never be sure with Hoka. He was always very hard to read.

“Is the Northern Water Tribe far?” Katara asked.

“A day’s ride. Less by your flying bison, I imagine.” Hoka peeled back and withdrew the the layers of furs we’d heaped atop Aang to keep him warm. Calm and thorough, until Katara turned away. Hoka closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. His fingers glided gently along unseen paths on Aang’s flesh. “It does not matter.”

“Why?” asked Katara.

Without opening his eyes, he whispered, “Your friend hovers at the threshold of this life and the next. Infection feasts off his chi. These lines here, here, and here. They reek of corruption.” He traced the infection lower to the festering wound in his leg. His head leaned back. “And here is the source. An arrow, but more the crippling poison. It disrupts and lies. I do not recognize it.”

Katara sank to her knees. “He can’t die. He just can’t.” She held Aang’s hand in her own and squeezed gently.

Hoka frowned. “He must if we dawdle further.” He gently removed her hand from Aang’s and guided it to Aang’s chest. “Protect his heart and drive the corruption back. I will engage the poison and its source.”

Katara stammered, something I’d not heard her do before or since. “I don’t know how. I’ve never been trained in…”

Hoka interrupted her, “It will feel like pouring water - the water in the ice and snow, the water in the air, the water in you - pour it all into his heart. Let loose a damn. Bring forth a tsunami. Use whatever mental image that crystalize your resolve. His life is in your hands, now.” He lowered his right hand to the ice floor and bent knife of ice. Hoka fashioned it further until it resembled a hook. Katara’s eyes bulged at the sight, but to her credit she didn’t look away.

“How…?” Katara asked.

Hoka said nothing more for almost an hour.

That night I watched a master and an apprentice at work. I held Aang’s head in my lap. He came in and out while they worked. He babbled incoherently. Katara, for her part, fell into a rhythm. She filled her lungs, then with a slow, steady out-breath she glided her palms along clammy flesh. I could tell she worked on the chi lines Hoka pointed out, but for all her effort and strain I could see no outward signs of her labor. She wielded no ribbons of water nor drove columns of ice. Even so, your father improved: his breathing grew less labored and in time his fever lessened.

From my vantage point, I could see very little of Hoka’s effort. Whereas Katara personified quiet grace, Hoka grunted and toiled against a stubborn foe. Rivulets of blood streamed passed Hoka: deep black mixing with bright crimson. Hoka pushed Aang’s leg one way while pulling the opposite direction, only to reposition and do it over again.Arrowheads are particularly insidious when lodged in bone, as it was in your father. I did not have the physical strength to remove it when I first met Aang. After a while, I was concerned that neither did Hoka. Finally, with a jerk of his arm and a wet crack, Hoka pulled the arrowhead free. He quickly encased it in sphere of ice.

Katara nodded towards the frozen arrowhead. “Why did you freeze it?” She asked, her quiet assault on the infection continued undeterred. From her motion and position, I guessed she’d succeeded in routing the infection back below Aang’s hip.

Hoka carefully wrapped the sphere in seal skin and placed it on the ground next to Katara. “When you arrive at the Northern Water Tribe capital, present this to Yugoda. Let her know the arrow was loosed by the Fire Nation and that it delivered a potent poison - one unknown to us. One that almost felled the Avatar.” Hoka returned his attention to the wound in Aang’s leg.

Katara stopped her rhythmic motions and furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, “You won’t take us to the capital?”

“No,” Hoka placed his hand on Katara’s, just where Aang’s leg and hip join, and with one quick motion cleared the remainder of the infection from Aang’s body. I’m not going to describe what I saw come out - not right before lunch. Let’s just say that Hoka is a very powerful and skilled healer. We were lucky to find him.

“I don’t understand,” Katara said.

“At daybreak, I will lead you close enough to see the capital, but from there you must make your way yourself.” With another swift movement of his hands, Hoka sealed Aang’s wound perfectly. No scar. Not a blemish or line. Aang snored softly in my lap as if he hadn’t been on death’s door less than an hour before.

Things got a bit awkward, after. Hoka accepted our gratitude - Katara gave him a great big bear hug and thanked him profusely. He seemed unfazed. No, that wasn’t what I saw cross his face. There was a slight upturn at the corners of his lips, ever so brief. A sense of pride or accomplishment? Joy, even, perchance? Whatever the feeling, Hoka crushed it as if it were a liability.

Hoka chose not to converse with us further, insisting instead we rest and that he would watch over Aang until daybreak. As you can imagine, this frustrated Katara to no end, but our savior would not budge. Hoka cleaned the operating area and then dressed Aang with the warm furs and blankets. Hoka then nestled with Nami near the entrance. He rest his head against her side and she nestled hers against him.

We did end up sleeping, if only for a few hours. We awoke as the pre-dawn light crept through the shelter entrance. Someone was gently shaking us. It was Hoka, a look of concern on his face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, groggily.

He nodded at the back of the shelter where Aang stretched and yawned under the furs.

“I had the most awful nightmare,” Aang whispered absently, his eyes still closed.

“What about?” I asked.

“Mouths.”


	13. Interlude: A Friend In Need - Part 2

By Order Of Admiral Zhao:

Lord Ozai demands the Avatar alive. You are to wound, incapacitate, and capture him. I forbid the use of poisons.

Even the most loyal Yu Yan archer forfeits their life in killing the Avatar.

* * *

_…in this way, Raava and Vaatu are inextricably bound. Within the impurities of one lies the source of the other. Their struggle is limited only by existence. Are they a byproduct of reality or necessary patterns woven into the very core? The great scholar Aei Relske lokkn plandw sies: "Plenek lake driand tuekns. Uyek verend skeld mmmensu febni derisku blaks. Sndkela enfey ldlp sndna." A paradoxical quandary that may never be unraveled fully._

Katara blinked and looked away from the book. She squeezed her eyes shut and let her mind relax for a moment before trying to read the passage once more. There were words there, to be sure: readable and individually understandable. Yet, together, their meaning escaped her. The old wood creaked as she leaned back in her chair. Or perhaps it was her back? Not so gentle pinpricks raced up her spine as suddenly relaxed muscles voiced their displeasure at holding still for so long. Darkness reigned passed the windows. What time was it?

Her office, once the very personification of immaculate order, teemed with small mountains of tomes, scrolls, and journals. The culmination of what must be hundreds or even tens of thousands of years of research on the nature of bending, spirits, the Avatar, and more. Often, before Azula or she could even fully make the request, the Knowledge Seeker scampered off and vanished only to return moments later with a new treasure trove of knowledge gently held in its jaws.

She’d started calling the Knowledge Seeker “Kina” for the dark fur that lined its eyes and muzzle. Kina would sit handsome and proud, offer the requested item to Katara, then wait patiently for its treat of seal blubber. Neither its liquid blue eyes or keen ears ever seemed to miss a detail. Initially, Katara wondered how much Wan Shi Tong watched them through its servant. Now, with Kina nestled under her desk around her feet, she had difficulty remembering the last time she felt so comforted by a mere presence. Too long.

“Any luck?” Katara called out. She gently patted Kina’s head and stood up.

Without looking up, Azula held up a finger and continued examining the scroll in front of her. Candlelight danced across her strained, but determined face. The quiet desperation of the past week took its toll on the both of them. Katara would not be surprised if she dreamed of musty pages and vague portents for the rest of her days.

“Did you know,” Azula put the scroll she was reading down gently, “that within the Spirit World grows a great tree? A tree whose very roots bind ours and the spirit worlds together?”

“I did not. Do tell.” Katara, gingerly at first, walked to the cabinet she used to help entertain guests. She filled two wine glasses and generously filled them with a rare vintage port gifted by her brother some years back. How a life of constant travel and meager means allowed them to afford such a prize Katara did not want to know. She made her way to Azula, offering her a glass.

Azula looked at the glass dubiously, “Far be it from me to tell you how to run your office, but in the Fire Nation we severely punish government officials that drink on the job. Also, it would be wrong. I don’t think we’re any closer to finding a cure.”

“Nonsense. I know we’ve made great progress. We’re just missing some crucial piece. And besides, all work and no play makes irritable old women. We’ve been at this for days. Come on, let’s go watch the sunrise.”

“That’s not for many hours,” Azula said matter-of-factly.

“Then we’ll have that much longer to enjoy our port.”

Azula took the proffered glass, her lips twisted into a wry, if tired, smile. “I can see why they made you a diplomat.”

“Sadly, my present post is one of simple pleasantries and formalities. Forced retirement by another name is still retirement.” Katara opened the door to her veranda and stepped out into the cold, still air.

Azula followed quietly after donning her parka and leaned against the railing looking out over the harbor.The stars were beautiful tonight. The pale moon loomed high overhead.

“Do you think she’ll forgive my people?” Azula asked, “Yue, I mean.” She sipped from her glass slowly. “Can we ever truly be forgiven?”

“I can’t profess to know the spirits as well as Aang, but Yue has a good heart. I am certain she will, if she hasn’t already. There is one way to know for sure: you could always ask.”

“You met Hoka around then, didn’t you?” Azula said, suddenly changing the subject, “What’s he like, really? I could never get a feel for him. He feigns humble and simple, a man of few words, but I’m certain you saw more in him than that.”

Katara chuckled, “Behind that chilly exterior is a wit and humor no one expects, least of all me, initially.” The chuckle turned to a sigh, “And warmth. He can be so gentle and so kind. Too much, sometimes.” Katara sipped from her wine glass.

“It was a night like this one that we first met all those years ago.”

“That’s when Aang was sick, after you met up with Piro?”

Katara nodded. “Without Piro, I don’t think I would’ve tried to hoof it to the Northern Water Tribes in the dead of night. She was like that. She had this way of crystallizing our resolve. She never gave impassioned speeches or argument bound by reason. She merely had to agree. Or disagree. Pivots on decisions occurred with mere gestures: a gentle sigh, a shrug of the shoulders.Coming across Hoka like that was some kind of miracle.”

Azula frowned suddenly and her voice hardened. “She always did have that effect, didn’t she? And here I thought I was the only one to notice.”

“Is that the reason why you two never got along?”

“One of many.” Azula drained her glass, “Good port, Katara. You’re right. That’s just what I needed.”

“You’re not going to talk about her, are you?” Katara leaned against the railing and looked squarely at Azula. “If you’re worried about Aang, I won’t…”

“I know you won’t tell him. I trust you.” Azula put a hand on Katara’s and squeezed gently. “I made a promise to my husband all those years ago. I’ll let sleeping dogs lie until the very end.”

A moment of silenced passed between the two friends. The moon looked down from its vantage point, not unkindly. Katara briefly wondered if Yue, from her vantage point, had a better view of events. Perhaps she could ask.

Katara gasped, “I could ask.”

Azula furrowed her brow, “Pardon?”

“Kina,” Katara called.

In a moment, the Knowledge Seeker the bounded onto the veranda and sat obediently at her feet. Katara knelt down.

“Kina, I know you’re tired, but I need you to retrieve something very special for me. It’s a bit outside of your master’s orders. I hope that’s ok.”

Kina barked in what sounded like assent.


End file.
